Amerika

And so the order went out, by the authority of the Government, that all citizens of Murka (the new phonetic spelling of the old name) must line up from coast to coast so that the new policy could be enacted upon them.

In Long Beach, California, the line began, and stretched across the entirety of the country, everyone a few feet apart to allow flatulence, COVID-19, and body odor to pass easily.

As is usually the case, the first person in line was a young girl of mostly Scots parentage. The Inspector looked over her DNA analysis, family history, and official documents… he grasped his chin and narrowed his eyes… cracked his knuckles.

“Well, I guess I should begin,” he said. Then he took a deep bread, and said:

You know why the sheep in Scotland are scared? It’s not that they will get raped, that’s a given. It’s that the sex is bad. Tiny penis Scot-burgers drunk on barrel-aged hand sanitizer will come out and fumble their way through bestiality, but the worst part is that then, they still fall asleep crying while trying to fondle the sheep. Your nation could have been something once but that was long ago. Instead you are the pegboys of the English, a nation of suburban bunglers, because you are a rabble of braggart cowards who cannot do anything more complex than order a whisky, bugger a sheep, or urinate on live electrical lines.

He waved her aside. “Next!” Up came a short Latino. The Inspector said:

You people eat beans because anything else is too complicated. Everything in your country is covered in feces because sewers remind you of the Rio Grande. Everything of value is stolen, so everyone is poor. All of my hubcaps are in your country but you are here because you cannot create a functional economy except for political corruption. Despite having the best farmland on Earth, you produce almost nothing except reggaeton music. You have the attention span of gnats and, like your Mongolian forebears, are more interested in stealing than producing anything of lasting value, so you come here to mow lawns and clean toilets and then complain that you have not been given enough free stuff. This explains why your countries are anchormen of the world economy despite having arguably a slightly higher IQ.

The Inspector mopped his brow. Next was a six-foot Black guy. “Whew,” said the Inspector. “Here goes”:

People enslaved your people because they had no idea what else to do with you. Despite being in possession of the most fertile farmland with the best animal life on Earth, you managed nothing but subsistence agriculture, failed to produce a written language, never invented the wheel, and live in mud huts run by matriarchal societies because the boys are all out fighting, raping, and eating bush meat, from which you get an endless string of interesting diseases like Ebola. In the cities of America, you do the same thing, except you add video games. Your music sounds like monkeys banging bongos, your cooking is fat with vegetables for flavor, your leaders are corrupt, and nothing will ever come of you.

“Next!” screamed the Inspector. The Black guy had taken a swing at him and missed, and was being kneeled on by Ventura County police while screaming, “I can’t breathe.” The next in line was a simpering French executive. “Oh boy,” said the Inspector:

You claim to be the origin of culture, but you live in a pissoir with whores who you do not criticize because you require them to lend you money to buy cigarettes. Your wine, discussed worldwide, is nothing more than a marketing scam where you convince people that different things left in the barrels by your lazy entitled workers have imparted some kind of mystical taste to fermented grape juice. Your bread is good, I will grant you that, but then you ruin it by slathering it with sugar-drenched jam and cheese that smells like your lazy inept feet. You killed your aristocrats and appointed bankers to rule yourselves instead. I cannot insult you more than history has. Once a great power, now you are a backwater of low-IQ people who show up to work for three hours a day, do nothing, and then wonder aloud why the Americans own everything. Your language sounds like a drunk whispering to his lover, not realizing that instead he is talking to a pile of turds that someone dropped lace on. You are untermenschen, get out of my sight.

The Inspector took a drink of water. “This is harder than I thought,” he said to his assistant. “Who’s next?” It was a Rabbi:

Your religion cannot decide whether it is simply superstition or a materialist justification for commerce. Since your people were shopkeepers and merchants, they mixed races early on, producing the ultimate hybrid of middle classes from the Negro, Asian, and White races, which means that you are perpetually neurotic because you have no idea who you are. Your religion is just a sham and a mask to cover up the fact that you actually have no culture except money and guilt. You remember the Holocaust because it is the last time anyone took you seriously. You rag on your sons to be doctors, while encouraging your daughters to slut it out in order to capture a rich man, and then wonder why you are all miserable in marriage. Not only that, but your religion or culture — or marketing, really — demands that you engage in stone-age tactics like panty-sniffing and sucking blood from the penises of infants. Everyone makes up conspiracy theories about you and blames you for the ills of the world because no one can think of a use for you. Even when you have power, you are so neurotic that you cannot decide anything as a group, and so you end making schmaltz movies for yutzes while hating yourself. If Hitler had had any brains, he would have simply sent you all to Russia where you could have shaken down the dumb primitive peasants for their last shekels while bemoaning your miserable marriages and lot in life to be the cash register workers of the world. Next!

Up next was a Chinese-American from Los Angeles. “Oh Christ,” said the Inspector:

Everyone claims you are the most intelligent of the ethnic groups, but unless running bullet-pocked convenience stores in ghettos using products you buy with food stamps at the White grocery stores counts as intelligent, you must be the dumbest. You cheat on your taxes, your exams, and your Costco memberships. You save every penny and live in hovels. You aspire to being doctors, then do a terrible job because your broader consciousness is that of an insect. You shuffle around, cutting in lines, thinking only of yourselves and oblivious to the experience of life and beauty, then wonder why you are still living in hovels and running convenience stores in ghettos. Your students study all weekend to achieve what a moderately intelligent person would in an afternoon. Despite making up most of the people acclaimed to be competent, you represent few of the great things done in history except for destroying actual civilization of course. When you take a break from eating endangered species and shooting dissidents, you seem to mostly make cheap gadgets for people to use until they break a few months later, then throw them directly into landfills.

Finishing a quick cigarette, the Inspector turned to the next person. “What the heck are you?” he asked.

“White,” said the guy. “English, German, Dutch, a little Danish, some Scots.”

Oh dope-smoking Christ, thought the Inspector. A bloody average White person. He cleared his throat and began:

You, even those among you who swear that you are not “racist,” believe yourselves to be the rulers of the world, yet any time you get halfway to greatness, you sabotage yourselves with class warfare and equality. You live through pretense, gesturing to each other with status signaling, and lord whatever power you get over each other like peasants pretending to be kings. Where you could be doing great things, instead you rush off to jobs like good little cucks, bowing before authority, just so you can go home and abuse someone on the internet to feel powerful. You ignore your rich cultural history and, because you are ironists who want to draw attention to yourself by appearing to be “not like the rest,” cool and above it all, pursue whatever weird, dysfunction, perverse, or foreign stuff you can find. When someone confronts you with the plain truth, you shout him down and ignore him because it would lessen your own sense of being cool. When confronted with other races, you fall all over yourselves to insist that everyone is equal, but the first chance you get, you move to the surburbs to run away from the poor people, homosexuals, minorities, and boxwine feminists. You people are nothing but poseurs and you hate yourselves, which is why you secretly fetishize demographic displacement.

The assistant looked nervous as the timorous White guy ran away crying into his COVID mask. “Sir, aren’t you being a bit abusive?”

The Inspector looked up. “See, up there? At the top of the page. It says ‘systematic racism,’ which is a malapropism generated by the inability of your average White American to speak English with any proficiency. They mean ‘systemic racism,’ but instead they got systematic racism, which means going to each individual and being racist to them. I’m just doing the best that I can.”

And that, thought the assistant, is why democracy is doomed.

Tags: fiction, systematic racism, systemic racism